The Game
by Lolita Lolly Lips
Summary: 1. There is no way out, so don't even try. 2. The madness will twist your mind until you will fall victim to the corruption. 3. The winner is the last man standing.
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Game.  
**Rating:** M.  
**Warnings: **Blood-shed, character death, shonan-ai, implied pairings.

* * *

**The Game** isn't a difficult one. The rules and few and simple enough.

Rule 1.  
There is no way out, so don't even try. Attempting to break the doors or windows will have painful results. Still want to try? Be my guest.

Rule 2.  
There is no way to escape the madness that playing The Game will cause. It will twist your mind until your thoughts aren't your own and you will fall victim to the corruption. If you allow this to happen, you will die.

Rule 3.  
The winner of The Game is the last man or woman left standing. That person will have to make a heartbreaking decision.

So, now you know the rules. Want to play? No? Too bad.

Oh, not to worry. If you're selected you shall be placed into The Game with those you love and trust. However, this may prove to be a negative thing as The Game progresses.

Now, it's time to meet my players.

First up we have **Italy Veneziano**. Such a sweet little thing really. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He's so loving and he wouldn't harm a fly. However, he has a few downsides. You see, our adorable little Italian is—to be blunt—a total coward. He's clumsy and would rather run crying to Germany than actually stand up for himself. I don't see him lasting very long.

Next, there's **Germany**. If I had to bet on anyone winning The Game, it would be him. He's strong—in will as well as body—and will easily hold corruption at bay. The only problem is that he's a little, well... boring. I certainly won't be relying on him to provide much entertainment.

Then we have **Japan**. He keeps to himself a lot and acts as though he's in his mid-forties. He doesn't like being touched and has his emotional barriers up 24/7. The madness is going to have so much fun reducing his walls to rubble.

Then there's **America**. Loud-mouthed, arrogant and generally annoying. He behaves like a hyper-active teenager most of the time. He's afraid of ghosts, poor thing. Fortunately, ghosts are going to be the last thing he has to worry about while playing The Game.

Next up there's **England**. Or **Britain**. Either way, I don't really care. This cynical, up-himself ex-pirate has a hard time coming to terms with his own emotions, opting to deny them. Although he does have a redeeming feature, namely his skill at using magic.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have **France**. Overly affectionate, overly effeminate and possibly bisexual, which is, of course, just a fancy way of saying that he'd fuck anything. Oh, how England hates this man. Not that I blame him.

Moving on, we then come to **Russia**. Don't let his sweet face fool you. He looks harmless enough, but he's been known to be cold and cruel. Although, he's also been known to be the easy going type. I wonder which side of him is the real Russia. Hmm.

Then we have **China**. He's nice enough. He's easy going with a soft spot for cute things. Kind of like a fourteen year old girl. I wonder how long it would take for the madness to corrupt the mind of a fourteen year old girl.

Next there's **Italy Romano**. He tries to act tough but he is, in fact, a master cry baby. He's also a typical spoilt brat who'll bitch and moan if he doesn't get his own way. I don't have much faith in this one. He may be among the first to go.

And trailing after Italy Romano, as usual, we have **Spain**, who's happy-go-lucky attitude is somewhat sickening. He's oblivious and can't read the atmosphere for his life. Which is ironic, seeing as he may actually need to read the atmosphere. For his life.

And then we come to our first actual female player. **Hungary** is such a lovely person, really. Although she certainly knows how to look after herself. She's a bit of a tomboy, but has also been labelled as a 'fujoshi', or even a motherly figure.

Keeping with the females, our next player is the beautiful **Belarus**. Would it make you feel better of I told you that her intentions were good? Because that would be a lie. She may look like a harmless, sweet young lady, but she's twisted and malicious, which makes her pretty face a lot less attractive.

Then there's the ever-forgotten **Canada**. He's such a sweetie, which is often a hindrance to him. He's the type that sits quietly in the background and allows people walk all over him. Funny. During The Game he's going to wish that he'd been forgotten this time.

And last but not least—although he doesn't technically exist anymore—we have the 'awesome' **Prussia**. He claims to love solitude, but he seems to have quite a few close friends. He's smart enough, but common sense is lacking with him. He prides himself in being outlandish and loves to draw attention to himself. Which is a bad idea.

So now we've gone through the rules and met our players, I think it's high time we got on with it, don't you agree?

Oh, as for myself. Call me **The Game Master**.

* * *

**End Note: **I promised myself I wasn't going to upload this until Apple Tree House was finished. Another self-promise broken *le sigh* It's my first time writing something in the horror genre and I desperately hope it'll go well. Oh, and just to be clear I have no problem with bisexuals, seeing as I am one. I just really like the line "fancy way of saying he'd fuck anything."  
Until next time,  
~Lolly xXx


	2. Chapter 1

The first thing Italy noticed when he woke up was that he wasn't in his bedroom. Nor was he in Romano's. Nor Germany's.

He sprung up, scanning the room. It was small with plain, white walls, no decoration. There was a dresser, a mirror, the bed he was lying in and nothing more, in sense of furniture. There were two doors, one which must have lead out into the hall and the other Italy assumed to be a bathroom.

This wasn't right. Italy distinctly remembered falling asleep in Germany's bed, cuddled up next to him.

Knowing he couldn't stay in this strange bed all day, Italy put his feet on the plush carpet that covered the floor. He made his way over to the dresser. There was a note on the mirror.

_Open the drawers._

He did as the note told him and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. Inside were his clothes. Not his uniform, but his usual, everyday clothes. Deciding that it was probably best not to question it, Italy picked out a pair of jeans and a plain blue, short sleeved t-shirt and quickly dressed himself.

Then, he turned away from the dresser, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two doors.

Which one?

Taking a shot in the dark, he walked towards the door adjacent to the dresser, pushing it open and cautiously stepping though it.

A bathroom.

Like the bedroom, it was simplistic. A toilet, a bath, a sink and a medicine cabinet. Like on the mirror in the bedroom, the medicine cabinet also held a note.

_Don't forget to brush your teeth._

Italy frowned. Dental hygiene was the last thing on his mind right now. Nevertheless, he opened the medicine cabinet, raising an eyebrow when he found his toothbrush inside. Along with the brand of toothpaste he used, and his half-empty bottle of mouthwash.

Once again, he did as the note told him to. Brushed his teeth and swilled out his mouth with the mouthwash.

He left the bathroom and walked out of the other door, which took him into a long hallway. The entire hallway was made up of doors, seven each side.

Italy stepped away from the door he'd just exited, closing it behind him. He jumped when he heard another door opening and closing.

"Italy?"

Italy turned on the spot at the sound of that voice. "France." He ran up to his friend and hugged him tightly. "Where are we?" he asked, glancing around again.

France hugged him back. "I'm afraid I don't know, _mon cher_." he replied.

Another door opened and out stepped China.

Within four minutes, someone had stepped out of all fourteen doors.

Altogether, there was Italy, France, China, America, Canada, England, Russia, Belarus, Spain, Romano, Prussia, Germany, Japan and Hungary.

"So, anyone wanna tell me how the hell we got here?" asked America.

Before anyone could reply, a loud voice echoed through the hallway.

_**Oh, good. You're all awake!**_

The voice was made up of three individual voices. One of a man, one of a woman and one of a child. It sent shivers down the spines of a few nations.

_**Allow me to explain. You're all here because you've been chosen to play The Game. But don't worry about that right now. Go, look around, get acquainted with your surroundings. All I ask is that you don't try to leave. Have fun, now.**_

The group stood in total silence for a few moments, before bitter chuckles were heard from Prussia.

"Don't leave?" He glared upwards. "Is this thing fucking serious? The first thing I'm doing is getting the fuck out of here."

_**I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Prussia.**_

Everyone froze. Prussia simply smirked. "So you know who I am."

_**I know who all of you are. I know your strengths, and I know your weaknesses. And I know that trying to leave won't end happily.**_

Prussia's eyes darkened into a dangerous glare. He turned and marched towards the staircase, the others following closely.

"Prussia!" Canada caught hold of his arm. "Is it really wise to test this?" he asked.

"Don't worry so much, Birdie." Prussia smiled, freeing his arm from Canada's grasp and ruffling his hair.

He turned and jogged down the rest of the stairs, surveying the room for something he could use. There was a silver candle holder on a small table nearby. He smirked and grabbed hold of it.

"This isn't a good idea, Prussia."

He ignored Canada's warning tone and made his way over to the window, raising the candle holder over his head and bringing it down on the glass.

As soon as the silver touched the window pane, Prussia felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm.

He swore loudly, dropping the candle holder and clutching his arm.

"Prussia!" Canada rushed down the stairs to the Prussian's side. He pried his hand from his injured arm, gasping when he saw thick, red blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt.

_**I warned you.**_

Canada slowly eased the sleeve of Prussia's shirt up, inspecting the damage.

The cut wasn't deep, nor was it wide, but it was bleeding quite a bit.

"How the hell did that even happen?" asked Canada, tearing the bottom of his shirt off to wrap around the Prussian's arm.

Prussia hissed as Canada applied pressure to the wound. The Canadian apologised as he lead Prussia back up the stairs.

_**Oh, my. How rude of me.**_

That voice, again.

_**I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself. I am The Game Master. I control pretty much everything in this house. If I wanted to, I could even control you, but where're the fun in that? I'd much rather watch how you handle what's going to happen yourselves.**_

"Germany," Italy wound himself around the German's arm, staring up at him with wide eyes. "What does it mean by that?"

Germany frowned. "I don't know, Italy."

Once again, there came the bitter chuckles from Prussia. "Control us?" he shook his head. "So you could kill us if you wanted to?" He looked up at the ceiling, raising his voice. "_Prove_ it!" he bit out, raising his arms.

"_Bruder_!" Germany hissed. "You're _still _going to try provoking this thing after what happened to your arm?"

_**You're brother's a smart one, Prussia.**_

Lowering his arms, Prussia glared at nothing in particular.

_**Now, please go and look around. You're going to have to know every little twist and turn of this house if you plan to win The Game.**_

The group stood in silence for a while, no one knowing quite what to say.

America was the first to speak up. "I think we should do as this thing says." he said.

"This is probably the first time I've ever said these words," said England. "But I agree with America."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We should split into groups." Germany suggested.

More nodding.

Prussia draped an arm over Canada. "Birdie's coming with me." he stated, leaving no room for argument.

"I'm going with big brother!" Belarus attached herself to Russia's arm, sending a warning glare around the room.

Spain and Romano agreed on going together, as did England and America.

China glanced over at Japan. "Why don't you come with me, aru?" he asked. Japan simply nodded.

Hungary smiled. "Italy, should we—"

"I'm going with Germany!" announced Italy, effectively (and unintentionally) cutting Hungary off as he ran past her and into Germany's arms, who simply sighed. "_Ja_, _ja_. Calm down, Italy."

The one's who's been paired off dispersed, leaving only Hungary and France.

_Italy...  
__Why?  
__Why didn't you want to come with me?  
__Wasn't I good to you?  
__I always tried to be the best mama ever._

"Hungary?"

France's voice snapped Hungary out of her daze. "_Tessek_?" she blinked herself back into reality.

France raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

Hungary chuckled. "Of course."

Sceptically, France accepted her answer. "Let's get going."

* * *

There's nothing worse than awkward silence. And right now, the silence was all sorts of awkward.

At least, it was for China. Japan didn't really seem to notice or care.

Finally, China let out a long sigh. "If I knew you were going to be this quiet and awkward, I would have insisted you go with Germany and Italy, aru." he huffed.

Japan looked up at him, but said nothing.

They continued to walk in silence.

After a while, China got irritated and stopped walking. "Don't you have anything to say at all, aru?" he snapped.

Stopping a little in front of him, Japan turned to face his former brother. "No. Not really." he replied, turning back and continuing to walk ahead.

China frowned. Here he thought he may have a chance to repair their broken relationship. Oh, well.

They walked further down the hallway, into a number of rooms and up a winding staircase. Nothing. There was nothing interesting about this house. Every room had the same white walls, the same white carpet and pretty much the same furniture.

After a few more identical rooms, China was ready to give up and go back to the hallway they had originally come from. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Japan.

"Do you hear that?"

China raised an eyebrow. "Hear what?"

Japan looked over at him with a confused expression. "_That_!" he said. "that whispering."

The two stood in total silence, waiting for any sound at all. The silence was broken by China. "I don't hear a thing." he whispered. He chuckled. "Maybe you're finally losing it, Japan."

Japan frowned. "_Hai_, maybe."

"Let's just get back to our starting point, aru." said China, turning and walking back the other way.

_There he goes again.  
__Telling you what to do.  
__Who does he think he is?_

Shaking the voice from his head, Japan followed after China.

* * *

"There's nothing in here!" called Spain, leaning out of a door.

Romano sighed, emerging from the door to the adjoining room. "Nothing here either." He stretched out, earning a painful sounding _snap _from his back.

Spain winced. "Don't do that, Roma. I keep thinking you're going to break your back!" he whined.

With a roll of his eyes, Romano marched forward into the next room.

Why did Spain have to worry so much? It wasn't even as if he was his guardian anymore, so why should he care?

Romano shook his head, continuing his search of the room. So far he'd found absolutely nothing.

Except...

It seemed a little strange to him that none of these rooms had windows. And that every room so far was arranged in the exact same way. Right down to the tiniest detail.

He reached out to pull open a drawer, flinching when the brass knob gave him an electric shock.

"Anything in there, Roma?" Spain called from the doorway.

Wrapping his hand in his shirt, Romano yanked open the drawer.

Nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

"No." he called back. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

All Prussia really wanted to know right now was how in the name of Great Fritz did he wound his arm? He spent the entire time he was supposed to be searching just staring at the covered gash.

"Prussia." Canada frowned, gently placing the very tips of his fingers over the make-shift bandage.

The Prussian looked up, staring straight into Canada's violet eyes. He smirked. "Aww. Are you worried about me, Birdie?" he teased.

Canada's frown deepened. "Of course I am!" he snapped. "I know what you're like! You're far too spontaneous for your own good and you never know when to back down, I..." he trailed off, his eyes falling to the ground. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Birdie..." Prussia sighed, pulling Canada into a gentle embrace.

Burying his face in Prussia's shirt, Canada's eyes slipped shut. How could he not worry about this moron? Somebody had to.

"Canada, look at me." said Prussia, giving the Canadian no choice in the matter as he lifted his chin. "I promise that if I get hurt, I won't let you see me."

Canada glared. "That's not the issue, you idiot!" he barked, struggling out of Prussia's hold and stomping off.

Prussia gave his usual cackle, following after his 'Birdie'. "Ah, come _on_, Birdie! I was just playing!" he called after him.

* * *

**End Note: **So, here's the first chapter. I hope I'm doing as well at this as I am with ATH.  
**Edit: **Fixed some errors.  
Translations:  
Tessek? - Sorry? (Hungarian)

_**Sneak Peaks**_

"_Honestly, this place seems all sorts of creepy to me."_

"_I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Italy."_

"_I'm sorry, brother."_

"_Birdie? Who said I was going to die?"_

"_Hungary, stop!"_

Until next time,  
~Lolly xXx


	3. Chapter 2

No matter how hard he tried, England could not, for the life of him, figure this place out.

Every room was identical to the last, had the same _feel_ as the last. He wasn't sure if anyone else could feel it, and he certainly was not going to risk mockery by asking America, but he was sure that something felt wrong about this place.

Another room.

Everything was in it's place, nothing so much as a millimetre out of line.

Maybe it was the constant repetition of the place that was making England so uncomfortable. He didn't know. But he wanted to get out of this ridiculous place. Fast.

"Find anything?" America yelled, despite being less than two feet away from him.

England frowned. "Oh, for Christ's sake America! You have a bell on every tooth and a dozen on your tonsils, I swear!" he huffed.

America just laughed and continued to dig through the drawer he was assigned to. So far, all he had found in said drawer were a bunch of plain, white button-downs, all of which were far too big for anyone he'd ever met.

He sighed. "Dude, I wasn't going to say anything but," he looked over at England. "Does this place seem kind of... creepy to you?"

Closing the doors of the closet he was previously looking through, England returned his friend's glance. "Honestly, this place seems all sorts of creepy to me." he admitted.

America pushed the drawer closed, moving to sit on the bed. "No kidding." he breathed. "I keep getting the feeling that something bad is going to happen... and every now and then, I get this weird pain in my shoulders and elbows and... well, pretty much all the joints in my extremities." He tipped himself back, lying on the bed with his feet on the ground.

England let out a quiet sigh, walking out of the room. "Come on." he said. "We have more rooms to investigate."

* * *

Since they had parted from the others, Italy had remained silent. He hadn't even looked up from the floor, seemingly content to just watch his feet carry him down the hall.

His sudden taciturnity was starting to worry Germany.

Italy was usually carefree, bubbly and playful, the way he should be. Germany didn't like him being quiet, because that meant that there was something wrong.

"What's the matter, Italy?" he asked, casting a worried glance in his friend's general direction.

Italy stopped walking, still staring at the wooden floor of the hall. "Afraid." he whispered.

Well that much was obvious. The Italian was scared of his own shadow, why wouldn't this absurd situation frighten him?

"I..." Italy continued. "I just want to go home."

Germany sighed, placing his hand on Italy's shoulder. "We all do." he said.

Italy turned abruptly, wrapping his arms around Germany's waist and burying his face in his chest. "I'm really scared, Germany."

Returning the embrace, the German frowned. "Hey," He gently rubbed soothing circles over Italy's back. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Italy." he whispered.

* * *

The whole search had consisted of Russia largely ignoring his sister's talk of true love and marriage.

It was the same thing she said to him every time the were in the same room together. He'd heard it so many times that he could probably recite the entire thing. Backwards.

He just did his best to ignore her and look around, which was a difficult task when she was clinging to the edge of his scarf.

"Answer me!" she whined.

Russia looked up from the desk he'd been examining. "I'm sorry, Belarus. What did you say?" he asked.

Belarus glared. "I asked how you would feel about a Spring wedding." she repeated. She lifted herself to sit on the desk, knocking a small, hand-held mirror off the edge, effectively shattering it.

"Be careful!" Russia chided, ducking down to pick up some of the shards. Most were too small and sharp to pick up with his hands, so he left them, warning Belarus to watch her feet when she got down. Placing the broken shards atop a small, side table, he went back to rifling through the desk.

With a pout, Belarus realised the Russian wasn't going to answer her question. Giving a bored yawn, she reached over to the side table, picking up one of the shards, feeling no fear about cutting her fingers.

She just sat there for a while, admiring her reflection. "I'd look beautiful in a veil." she stated.

_He doesn't want to see you in a veil.  
__He doesn't love you.  
__He wants you to be miserable.  
__You'd make such a beautiful bride.  
__But he doesn't care._

Belarus frowned.

The girl in the shard frowned too.

Who was this?

It couldn't be Belarus. Belarus' eyes always had a stunning shine to them. This girl's eyes were dull. Dark. The whites of her eyes looked almost... grey. And her skin was so pale. Deathly so. This girl looked ill.

"Big brother." she called out. "Do I look okay?"

"You're as beautiful as always, Belarus." replied Russia, monotonously.

"No, big brother. Look at me." Belarus reached out to grab onto Russia's scarf, but he moved before she could touch it. "I don't have time for your foolishness right now, _сестра_, I'm busy."

Belarus frowned, glancing back into the shard.

The girl's eyes were even darker now. And her lips looked dry and chapped.

The Belarusian brought a hand up and let her fingers slowly brush across her own lips. They weren't soft and plump as the usually were. They were chapped and even cracked in some places.

Panicking, Belarus brushed her fingers over her cheek. Her skin was cold to the touch and felt awfully dry and nowhere near as soft as usual.

"Russia," her voice was quiet, almost breaking. "I think there's something wrong."

"Not now, Belarus."

_He doesn't care.  
__He's never cared.  
__You could be dying right now and he just does not care._

Belarus looked into the shard once more.

The whites of her eyes were completely black now. Her pupils had disappeared, leaving only the pretty purple of her irises.

_Do it!  
__Do it, Belarus!_

Belarus looked back towards her brother.

_What are you waiting for?  
__He deserves it doesn't he?  
__After everything he's done to you, aren't you furious?  
__He deserves this and much, much worse, just do it!_

Letting her eyes flicker between the shard and her brother, Belarus brought her legs up to rest under her, sitting like a frog. She cared not about the possible up-skirt or the way she was clutching the shard so tightly that it dug into her skin and left a deep slice across her palm.

_Do it!  
__Do it!  
__Do it!_

She waited until he was perfectly aligned.

Just one more tiny step to the left, _come on!_

Loosing patients, Belarus launched herself forward, grabbing hold tightly to her brother's shoulder and plunging the shard into his throat.

Russia doubled over, attempting an agonising cream, but only managing to gasp for air. He struggled to get the weight off his back, a weight soon revealed to be Belarus.

Belarus slid off her brother, harshly yanking out the shard, sideways, leaving a gaping hole in Russia's throat.

The Russian collapsed onto his knees, coughing and spluttering, spraying blood over the floor.

"I'm sorry, brother." Belarus' tone made it painfully obvious that she was not the least bit sorry. "This was your own fault." She smiled, flicking her hair behind her. "Maybe it would have ended differently, had you been better to me." She turned and walked away, pausing in the doorway. "_До__свидания__, __большой__брат_."

The last thing Russia saw was his sister's little feet leaving bloody footprints in her wake.

_**Russia has reached Platinum Tier.**_

The Game Master's announcement was heard all through the house, planting the same question in everyone's minds.

What is Platinum Tier?

"Germany," Italy's voice was low, barely audible and shaking. He didn't even look up from the floor. "I have a really bad feeling."

Germany tucked the Italian under his arm. "So do I." he replied.

* * *

Prussia ground his teeth, his fists clenching automatically. The Game Master had already pissed him off enough for one lifetime. Without thinking, he went to punch through another window.

He gave a strangled yelp when he felt the flesh on his arm rip open, like it had before.

"Prussia!" Canada turned back when he heard the Prussian cry out. He rushed to his side, gently lifting his sleeve. "You have to be more careful!" scolded the Canadian, tearing another makeshift bandage from his shirt.

Prussia frowned, biting his lip as he let Canada wrap his wound. "If you keep doing that you're going to have no shirt left." he said.

Canada sighed, continuing to wrap the torn off material around Prussia's arm. "Well," he huffed. "I'd rather not have a shirt than not have you."

"What are you talking about?" Prussia asked, using his free hand to brush the Canadian's fringe out of his eyes.

With another sigh, Canada finished what he was doing and pulled away from Prussia. "I just..." he put a hand to his forehead, the other resting on his hip. "I keep getting the feeling that... that something bad is going to happen to you."

Prussia's frown deepened. He grabbed hold of Canada's arm, pulling him into a hug. They stood in their embrace for a few minutes, until Prussia heard a quiet hiccup from the Canadian. He took his Birdie's chin in his hand and lifted his face.

A few stray tears rolled down Canada's cheeks. He pushed up his glasses and wiped them away, but Prussia had already seen them.

"What the matter, _Vogel_?" he asked.

Canada sniffed, biting his lip. "I..." He could barely speak for sobbing. "I d-don't want you to... to d-die." he wept, burying his face in Prussia's chest.

"Who said I was going to die?" asked Prussia, rubbing soothing circles on Canada's back. "Birdie? Who said I was going to die?"

* * *

"Hungary, stop!" France yelled.

Hungary spun around. "What? What's the matter?"

France leaned against the wall. "My chest is really starting to hurt." he complained, sliding down the wall.

With a frown, Hungary placed a hand on her own chest. "Yes, mine has been hurting for a little while." she sighed.

Judging by the pained look on France's face, the pain in his chest was a lot sharper than the pain that Hungary was feeling.

"Why don't you go on ahead, Hungary?" France gave her a smile. "I'll catch up with you when I'm feeling better."

Hungary opened her mouth to protest, but something stopped her. "Okay." She turned and started to walk on. "I'll be slow so you can catch up easily." she called back over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hallway.

Another quiet groan slipped from France's parted lips. He sat alone in silence for a while, waiting for the pain to subside.

In the distance, he heard a gentle tapping of little shoes on the tiled floor. Slowly, a voice faded in.

He couldn't make out what was being said, but the voice sounded desperate and frightened.

France kept his eyes in the direction of the voice, carefully climbing to his feet when he saw Belarus round the corner, clutching the wall with tears streaming down her face, chanting in rapid Belarusian. She had blood staining her dress and crusting in her hair.

"Belarus," France reached out for the shaking girl. "What happened to you?"

The Belarusian girl took a step back, avoiding France's touch. "...dead..." she whispered. "Big brother... is dead." She shook, her hands coming up to cover her face. "I... I killed big brother!"

France's eyes widened as he drew back his hands. "...Why, Belarus?"

"Because it told me to."

"What?"

Belarus looked up, revealing her altered eyes. "The voice." she replied. "The whispering voice, can't you hear it, France?" She shook her head, screaming as she collapsed to her knees, her heart pounding. "It hurts! The whispering won't stop and my chest is aching! It's hurts so much, France!"

Kneeling beside her, France pulling her into his lap, rubbing her back and trying to get her to calm down. Slowly, her panting breaths evened out and she stopped shaking. "It'll be okay, Belarus." France whispered.

Belarus didn't respond. She lay perfectly still.

"Belarus?" France brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and totally black. Her breathing had come to a complete stop. "Belarus!"

_**Belarus has lost the game.**_

* * *

**End Note:** Sorry it took so long to get this up, I'm working on God knows how many different things all at once.  
Translations:  
сестра – Sister (Russian)  
До свидания, большой брат - Goodbye, big brother (Russian. I had Belarus speaking Russian for a reason.)  
Vogel – Bird (German)

_**Sneak Peaks**_

"_I'll make it quick."_

"_We're going to die, aren't we?"_

"_Italy, stop it!"_

"_We'll find him, Romano."_

"_Kill me, Spain! Please!"_

Until next time,  
~Lolly xXx


	4. Chapter 3

"Oh, _Dieu_!" France ran his hand through his hair, not knowing what to do. He tucked his arms under Belarus, lifting her up and carrying her into one of the rooms. He placed her on the bed, stepping back.

What was he supposed to do?

Belarus had just _died in his arms_! He had no idea what to do.

He turned away, heading out of the room to find someone.

* * *

"Dude, I'm really starting to hate this place." groaned America, rubbing his aching shoulder.

England raised an eyebrow. "You liked it before?" he asked, pausing in his steps.

With a sigh, America turned to face him. "Well, at first I... I thought it was kinda cool, y'know? Like the set of a horror movie or something." he admitted, tapping the toe of his shoe against the polished wooden floor. "But I just keep getting these... awful feelings..."

The Brit frowned. "Yes, I do too." he replied.

"And The Game Master... 'Russia has reached Platinum Tier'... 'Belarus has lost The Game'... I wanna know what it all means."

They were both silent for a while, bother searching their brains for a possible explanation.

"We could... ask it..." England suggested, looking at the frosted window.

_**Rude!**_

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

_**I am The Game Master, England. I do not appreciate being called an 'it'.**_

England instantly felt sick at the sound of that voice. If it could be called that.

America, on the other hand, seemed unaffected. "Game Master," he started, staring up at the ceiling. "Explain to us what Platinum Tier is."

All was silent once again.

America and England were starting to believe that The Game Master had no intention of answering them, when—

_**I have an announcement to make.**_

The voice rumbled throughout the entire house.

_**I assume that every single one of you is wondering just what Platinum Tier is.**_

Just like that, The Game Master had everyone's attention.

_**Allow me to explain. Platinum Tier is akin to what you may call Heaven. It's a chance to reinvent yourselves. You will leave this world forever, but will begin anew elsewhere.**_

As soon as the word "heaven" had been uttered, a shared sense of dread came over all those in the house. After all, heaven meant death.

_**However, some of you will lose The Game. Your minds will be twisted by The Madness and you shall become The Corrupt. Eventually, The Corruption will suffocate your mind and you will fall. You will loose The Game, and your soul will simply blink out of existence**_

The entire house stood in silence, save for the few shuddering, frightened breaths that fell from the lips of the more docile nations.

It took a moment for it to register in China's head, but when it did, his gaze instantly dropped to the floor. "So," he whispered, his voice weak and quivering. "Russia is dead..."

Japan gave a simple nod. "_Hai_, as is Belarus-san, it seems."

With a frustrated groan, China turned to face the younger nation, eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare. "Can't you show just the least bit of emotion?" he hissed. "Two people are dead and you don't feel the _slightest_ bit of sorrow? Where is your heart, _R__ì__běn_?" He turned and hurried away, hoping Japan didn't see the tears gathering in his eyes.

Giving a quiet sigh, Japan followed after his former carer. He wasn't quite sure what China expected of him. He hadn't known Russia or Belarus well enough to consider them friends. They weren't allies of his, nor did he see them ever becoming such.

The again, maybe China's outburst was a feeble attempt to cover the grief he was feeling at this moment. That was probably it. After all, China and Russia had been quite close.

_You can reunite them._

Japan whipped around. There was that whispering again. What did it want of him?

_Reunite them, Japan.  
__It's the right thing to do._

Reunite them? Surely this voice didn't want him to—

_They were so close.  
__It would be such a pity to keep them apart.  
__Do it.  
__Reunite them._

Japan shook his head. No. He couldn't kill China.

China, who had cared for him when he was too small to care for himself. And in terms of physical strength, China was superior.

_Your katana.  
__He has no weapons.  
__Even if he is stronger than you, he couldn't possibly stop your katana._

A shiver went down his spine when he realised that he was actually considering doing what the whispering voice was suggesting.

Could he really do it? Could he kill China?

He briefly wondered how it would feel, slicing into the elder nation's flesh, watching rivers of scarlet fall from deep wounds.

He shivered again. Such morbid thoughts.

No. He couldn't do it.

Even if China was occasionally obnoxious and thought he could still get away with telling him what to do, he was still the man who took him in and cared for him when nobody else would.

_He is also the man who tried to control you._

Japan cast a glance to his katana.

It would have to be something classic. Maybe a bisection, or even a decapitation. Something simplistic. He wasn't really up for a messy disembowelment. Yes, a decapitation would do nicely.

Increasing his pace to catch up with China, Japan unsheathed his katana. "I'll make it quick." he whispered. He was mere millimetres from the elder nation when he pulled his sword back.

"Make what qu— ?!" China turned just in time to dodge Japan's attack, gasping when the very tip of the weapon nicked his throat. "J-Japan?"

The younger of the two glared up at the other through his fringe, and China gave another gasp.

"Japan... what happened to your... eyes?"

Japan blatantly ignored his question, dashing forward and swiftly slicing his stomach open.

With a loud yell, China fell backwards, knocking his head on a table ledge as he went down. He tried to get up, but the pain rendered him immobile. He panicked when Japan approached, standing over him with his katana raised.

"While I was growing up, you always wanted me to address you as my brother." Japan recalled. "I only have one thing left to say to you." His mouth curved into a sickly sweet smile. "_Sayonara, oniisama._" With a final swing of his katana, Japan ended the life of the oldest nation.

_**China has reached Platinum Tier.**_

* * *

France just couldn't take it in. Russia. Belarus. And now China. How could such powerful nations have fallen so quickly?

"France?"

That was Spain's voice. He was sure of it. His eyes were blurry and he was still in a shuddering, panicked state. He couldn't rid himself of the feel of Belarus' hair running through his fingers, her warmth on his chest, and the empty blackness of her eyes as her life slipped away.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his back.

"Fr-France, calm down." Spain's voice again.

France shook his head, grabbing hold of Spain's wrist and dragging him back to the room where he'd placed Belarus' body, not saying a word.

"Oi!" Romano. That must have been Romano. "Don't you bastards leave without me!"

France didn't—or rather _couldn't _speak until they were outside the room's door. He took a shuddering breath. "B-Belarus... She... She's..."

"Dead. We know."

"I... I didn't know what to do, I just... I just _left_ her here!" France began shaking his head again. He let go of Spain's wrist, placing his hand on the doorknob and opening the door.

The room was totally empty.

"Wh— No, this isn't possible!" France stumbled forward into the room, falling over himself. He placed a hand flat on the bed. "I put her right _here_." he stated. He replayed the moment in his head.

He was holding her. She was crying. She was in pain, so he was holding her. He thought she was beginning to calm down, but when he looked at her, she was dead. He was shocked. Shocked and frightened. He carried her into this room and placed her on the bed.

That's exactly what happened. So where was she?

Spain stepped into the room, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "France, breathe." he said. "Maybe one of the others found her and moved her. Y'know, gave her a kind of... funeral or something..."

Luckily, France was in no state to argue back. He just took a deep breath and nodded, willing to believe anything at this point.

"Now come on," Spain held his hand out. "We were on our way back to the main hall."

* * *

The silence was almost deafening.

Germany and Italy hadn't said a word since The Game Master's announcement. Each wished he knew what the other was thinking.

Italy was the first to speak.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

However, Germany heard it perfectly clearly. "Of course we aren't!" he snapped.

Italy flinched at his harsh tone. "The Game Master said that those who reach Platinum Tier go to heaven and those who lose The Game cease to exist." he reasoned. "Either way, we die."

Germany frowned. "The Game Master also said that we can win The Game." he countered, grabbing hold of Italy's shoulders. "If we win, we survive. That has to be how this works. We just have to make sure that we win." With that, he released Italy's shoulders and laced their fingers together.

"I'm not very good at winning..."

"Italy, _stop it_!" Germany had to stop himself from yelling. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to let anything happen to you?"

Italy pulled away, turning to face the other way.

"I can't stand seeing you so... so negative." Germany continued, wrapping his arms around Italy from behind. "It doesn't suit you. You're Italy. Hyperactive, happy-go-lucky Italy. What happened to your ever-optimistic attitude?"

With a quiet sniffle, Italy turned back to face the German. "And what good did optimism do _them_? Russia, Belarus and China?" he countered, fists clenched and tears rolling down his cheeks.

As much as Germany hated to admit it, Italy made a fair point. But still, he shouldn't be this way. "And what do we have that they don't?" he asked, in a desperate attempt to bring the Italian round to his way of thinking.

Italy frowned. "...what?"

Germany caught hold on Italy's wrist, pulling him closer as he whispered; "Each other."

* * *

Romano fiddled with the zip on his jacket, chewing his bottom lip. He, along with everyone else, wanted to know just what was going on in this house, but more than that—more than anything—he wanted to know exactly where his brother was.

Three people had died already and he was getting worried. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Veneziano. Why the hell didn't he demand he go with him instead of the potato bastard?

"Roma?" Southern Italy glance to the side, his frown deepening when he saw the worried look on Spain's face. "What's the matter?"

Romano scoffed. "Nothing." he lied.

Spain was often accused of being unable to read the atmosphere. He could, however, read Romano like a book. Giving a soft smile, he draped an arm over the Italian's shoulders. "We'll find him, Romano." he promised.

"I'm not worried about that idiot, Veneziano!" he grumbled, shrugging Spain's arm from his shoulders.

With a quiet chuckle, Spain replaced his arm. "Then how did you know I was talking about him?" he asked.

Romano glared, picking up speed to leave Spain behind.

Meanwhile, France was still freaking out over Belarus' missing body.

Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe Belarus wasn't dead after all. No. The Game Master announced her death. Not only was she dead, but she'd lost The Game.

_Wait!_

If Belarus had lost The Game, then her soul no longer existed, right? So maybe, because her soul no longer existed, then neither did her body. That _must_ be it!

France looked up, opening his mouth to tell the others of his theory. He swallowed his words when he saw how close the two were.

He glared.

_Spain was your best friend until that Italian came into the picture.  
__You should get rid of him._

Almost against his will, France took a step forward.

_You'll be doing Spain a favour, really.  
__Getting rid of that brat.  
__Spain never really wanted him in the first place.  
__He should die._

With a gasp, France stopped himself from moving. "No! I don't think that!" he hissed, fisting his hands in his hair.

His seemingly random outburst caught the attention of the two nations in front of him.

"France?" Spain rushed towards him, grabbing his arms. "What's wrong?" he asked.

France bit his lip, shaking his head. "Kill me." he whispered.

Spain blinked, taking a step back. "Wh-What?"

"Kill me, Spain! _Please_!" begged the Frenchman. "Belarus told me that she killed Russia because a whispering voice told her to," he explained, hoping to whatever deity was listening that the Spaniard believed him. "I couldn't hear it at first, but now I can and I... I don't want to hurt either of you..."

The three stood in silence for a while, before France spoke again. "Spain, please, just do it!" he muttered.

Spain sighed, shaking his head. "I... I couldn't possibly... I can't kill you, France." he responded.

France opened his mouth to beg again.

"I can."

Both France and Spain looked over at Romano, who was staring at the two, fists clenched.

"Roma, what are you—"

"Look at him, Spain." Romano interjected.

Spain glanced back at his friend, taking in his appearance. The whites of his eyes had started to turn grey and his face had lost all colour.

"There's a reason he wants to die."

France tumbled out of Spain's hold. "So you'll do it?" he asked.

Romano nodded. "My gun is in the room I woke up in." he said. "If you follow me..." he trailed off, not really needing to finish that sentence. He turned and led the way to 'his' room.

It only took a matter of seconds before the three of them were stood in the room Romano wad woken up in. Romano walked over the the dressed, pulling open the second draw and retrieving his gun.

France took a deep breath, trying his hardest not to look at the shiny metal in Southern Italy's hand.

"Stand against the wall." Romano's voice shook.

France did as he was told and stood against the wall. "Do it." he uttered when Romano aimed.

"For what it's worth," Romano couldn't contain with tears that were swelling in the corners of his eyes. "I never truly hated you."

Giving a sad smile, France nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as Romano squeezed the trigger.

With a loud bang, a bullet shot through France's head, splattering his brain over the previously white wall.

_**France has lost The Game.**_

The gun fell from Romano's trembling hand and clattered to the floor.

Romano grit his teeth as a sob tore from his throat.

"Roma," Spain grabbed hold of his former charge, holding him close. "It's okay. You... You did the right thing." he whispered, not sure who he was trying to convince, Romano or himself.

* * *

**End Note: **And now China and France fans will have my guts for garters.  
Translations:  
Dieu – God (French)  
Rìběn – Japan (Chinese)  
Sayonara, oniisama – Goodbye, big brother (Japanese)

_**Sneak peaks**_

"_I'm in so much pain all the time, America."_

"_Trying to be the hero again, huh?"_

"_An eye for an eye, you bastard."_

"_You're not going to die! I won't let you!"_

"_I need you to calm down, or you'll make yourself sick."_


	5. Chapter 4

"No." England froze, shaking his head. "No, France isn't dead."

America frowned. "I'm sorry, England." he said, resting his hand on the Brit's shoulder.

"Shut up, America!" yelled England, slapping America's hand away. "You aren't sorry at all. If you had your way, France would have been the first to go!" He backed away, glaring dangerously.

Taking a step back, America rubbed his hand. "England..." his voice was barely the volume of a whisper. "You and France... You weren't..."

"He was my _best and closest friend_!" England shouted.

The two stood for a while, England glaring, America just stood there with a blank stare.

England took two steps back. "He's not dead." he insisted. He turned on his heel and rushed back the way he came.

"E-England!" America called out, dashing after him.

* * *

Hungary didn't even know why she had left France on his own. Now he was dead and it was probably all her fault.

She stopped in her tracks, The Game Master's announcement replaying over and over in her head. She doubled over, letting out a shuddering sob and covering her face with her hands.

"_Annyira__sajnálom_!" she whimpered, pressing herself against the wall before sliding onto the oak floor. "_Annyira sajnálom, Franciaország_. _Bocsáss meg, kérlek_!"

A groan slipped in with her sobs as the pain in her chest increased. What was happening to her?

She heard footsteps approaching. Quickly. By the time she'd lifted her head to look, the footsteps had already passed.

"England!"

She turned her head to see America running down the hallway. Ah, so it was England's footsteps that she heard.

America, not noticing Hungary sitting on the floor, tripped over her foot and landed face first in front of her, his glasses skidding across the tile. Groaning in pain, America pushed himself up.

"America?" Hungary curled her legs under herself, moving forward to rest on all fours. "What's the matter with England?" she asked, picking up his glasses and handing them back to him.

America thanked her, placing them back on his face. "When he heard the announcement about France, he..."

Hungary nodded, the pain in her chest coming back with a sharp twist. She gasped, clutching her chest and almost toppling forward.

Reaching out to steady her, America gently rubbed her back. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Tears started pouring out of Hungary's eyes. "My chest." she squeaked. "I'm in so much pain all the time, America."

With a frown, America scooped up the weeping nation and got to his feet. "I'll take you to one of the bedrooms. There's a bunch of them back down there." he said, motioning back the way he came with his head. "You should rest for a while." He carried her through the halls in silence, managing to nudge the door open with his hip when they finally reached a bedroom. He gently set Hungary down on the bed, pulling the eiderdown over her. "I'll come back with England once I've calmed him down and maybe we can think of a way out of here." With that, he left.

Hungary watched his retreating from with a small smile on her lips. "Trying to be the hero again, huh?" she whispered, falling asleep.

* * *

England didn't stop running, even when it occurred to him that he had no idea where France was. He paused when he heard what sounded like someone crying. He listened closer. Romano. That sounded like Romano.

"It's alright, Roma." he heard Spain mutter, in a soothing voice.

England started moving again, stumbling towards the voices. He pushed open a door, practically falling inside.

He froze.

The first thing he saw when he entered the room was France.

France with a bullet hole right through the middle of his forehead.

His breath caught in his throat. "F-France..."

Romano looked up, turning away from Spain. "England, I... I'm sorry." he muttered, a little pathetically. "I didn't want to..."

England glared and Romano gasped. He didn't think he'd ever seen England's eyes glow quite that brightly before. He'd seen the dull shimmer they got when he was trying to use magic, but nothing like this.

"You." England growled. "You're the reason France is dead."

"He beg—"

"_Shut up!_" England's fists clenched. He looked back over at his fallen friend and muttered a few seemingly nonsensical words. The area around him seemed to glow, a terrible heat coming off the Brit in waves. "An eye for an eye!" he hissed, sharply turning his gaze towards Romano.

Romano felt himself being lifted off the ground and with a startled yell, he was flung backwards with great force, slamming against the wall. He could actually feel his ribs shatter on contact.

"_ROMANO!_" Spain dashed forwards, managing to catch his former henchman safely. "Romano, are you alright?"

Romano shook, lurching forwards and coughing violently, a thick spray of blood falling from his lips.

Spain's expression darkened. He gently set Romano down, grabbing the closest thing to him, which so happened to be a rather heavy wooden chair, and swinging it into the Brit's face.

With a pained cry, England fell to the floor, hand nursing his bruised and splintered cheek. The chair must have broken, leaving Spain with just the leg which, while lighter than the whole chair, could still do a decent amount of damage.

Spain pondered how long it would take for England to die of internal haemorrhaging. He took a few steps closer to the blond nation, giving him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure. "An eye for an eye, you bastard." he growled out, raising the chair leg above his head and bringing it down onto England with all his strength.

All England could do was lay there and plead with the Spaniard to stop, _please just stop_, but Spain continued the brutal attack no matter what he said.

Eventually, England stopped crying.

Panting, Spain dropped the chair leg.

_**England has reached Platinum Tier.**_

"S-Spain..." the quiet, raspy voice brought Spain out of his rage induced trance. "Romano!" He turned and knelt down, carefully lifting the dying nation back into his arms. "Sssh, it's okay, Roma. I got you." He soothed, reaching up to stroke Romano's fringe out of his eyes.

Romano's breaths came out in laboured, wheezy pants. When his ribs had shattered, one and pierced his lung. "Spain... I c-can't breathe..."

Spain's eyes filled with tears. "You'll be fine. Just... concentrate on staying alive."

With a gentle shake of his head, Romano leaned into his former guardian. "I'm going to die, Spain." he gasped out, another splatter of blood ejecting itself from his throat.

"No!" Spain pulled Romano closer to him. "You're not going to die! I won't let you!" he sobbed.

Romano gave a weak smile. "Why are you crying... bastard?" he struggled. A few more forced breaths and Romano began shaking a little more violently. "T-Te amo, España" he whispered.

Spain bit his lip, tilting his head down to press their noses together. "Ti amo troppo, Italia Romano." he replied, pressing his lips against Romano's.

The elder Italian began coughing again, spitting blood over Spain's shirt. He gave a strangled sob, burying his face in the Spaniard's chest. A few more ragged breaths escaped him before he stilled, falling limp in Spain's arms.

_**Italy Romano has reached Platinum Tier.**_

* * *

Italy choked on air, tears filling his wide eyes. "_Fratello_..." he whispered. "Germany... my _fratello_ is dead..."

Not knowing what to say, Germany put an arm around him. "I'm so sorry, Italy." he said.

Shrugging off the German's arm, Italy took a step backwards, his hands coming up to cover his mouth as he stared at the ground, tears now falling freely. His breathing became slightly erratic and his eyes darting around in a panicked manner.

"I-Italy," Germany grabbed hold of his shoulders, holding him in place. "Calm down, Italy. Breathe." he instructed.

Italy shook his head, trying to get out of Germany's iron hold. "My big brother..." he kept repeating as more and more tears cascaded down his face.

"Italy, look at me." Demanded Germany, catching hold of Italy's chin, making him look him in the eye. "I need you to calm down, or you'll make yourself sick."

When Italy made no attempt to calm himself, Germany lifted him onto his hip with unexpected ease and held him close, rocking him back and forth and rubbing his back like a child. "Calm down, Italy." he whispered. He took a deep breath, not believing what he was about to do, but he'd do anything to calm Italy down.

"I can't be home tonight. I'll make it back, it's alright. No one could ever love me half as good as you" he sang, softly.

Italy's breaths slowly evened out, his initial panic starting to wear off. He still sobbed heavily, but at least he wasn't gasping for breath anymore.

"You can't be strong tonight, love makes you sad, it's alright. No one could ever worry half as good as you" Germany continued, still stroking Italy's back and gently swaying back and forth.

Burying his face in the crook of Germany's neck, Italy continued weeping. "I-I lost him, Germany. I lost my b-brother!" he wailed.

With a sigh, Germany realised all he could do was hold Italy and rub his back while he cried. "I know." He whispered.

* * *

Spain pulled Romano's lifeless body as tightly to himself as he could, loud sobs tearing from his throat. He buried his nose in the Italian's soft hair, pressing a few kisses to his forehead.

At that moment, America rounded the corner, his eyes falling on England's barely recognisable body, then to the Spaniard nursing Romano's limp form. "W-What happened?"

With a glare, Spain felt his rage return. "You want to know what happened?" he growled. "England killed my Roma... So I fucking killed England!" He was shaking all over, tears still falling from his eyes.

America took a step back. "You..." His eyes narrowed into a glare. "_You_ killed England?" he asked, also feeling a wave of rage washing over him.

"An eye for an eye!" yelled Spain.

America scoffed, his eyes darkening into a hate filled glare as he pulled out his gun. "Damn straight." he hissed, firing off three rounds, all aimed at Spain's head.

Spain, still clutching Romano, fell backwards into a pool of his own blood, bringing Romano's form down on top of him.

_**Spain has reached Platinum Tier.**_

America slowly put his gun away, still glaring. He collapsed to his knees, reaching out to stroke England's blood-soaked hair. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you."

He didn't hear the footsteps creeping up behind him, all he heard was the sound of his own teeth clashing together as something heavy fell onto his head and everything faded to black.

* * *

Hungary sprang up, the pain in her chest becoming worse, although strangely, she could bear it.

Where was she?

She was stuck in some bizarre house with an agonising ache in her chest and she was alone. Why was she alone? She had family didn't she?

Well, she had Prussia. But where was he? He was with Canada.

Her closest childhood friend, the man that was like a brother to her, was with Canada. The forgotten nation.

Prussia never spent much time with her anymore. Not since he found his _Birdie_!

No one had time for Hungary any more.

* * *

**End Note:** I will never be able to write a decent death scene. Or an IC Germany. Speaking of OOC Germany, the song he sang to Italy was When Angels Fly Away by Cold. Good song. Also, I was a sobbing mess all the way through Romano's death scene.

Translations:  
Annyira sajnálom – I'm so sorry (Hungarian)  
Annyira sajnálom, Franciaország. Bocsáss meg, kérlek – I'm so sorry, France. Forgive me, please (Hungarian)  
Te amo, España – I love you, Spain (Spanish)  
Ti amo troppo, Italia Romano – I love you too, Italy Romano (Italian)

_**Sneak peaks**_

"_What were you thinking of, Germany?"_

"_How many times do I have to tell you? I'm too awesome to die."_

"_It's just not fair."_

"_I'm not going to let you kill him!__"_

"_I guess I wasn't awesome enough after all."_


	6. Chapter 5

Hungary kicked the eiderdown off her legs, setting her feet on the floor. It didn't matter that America had promised to come back, it would take a while to calm England down.

She lifted herself off the bed, making her way to the door. She gasped quietly, falling against the wood. That pain. What was happening to her? She coughed violently, one hand clutching her chest while the other covered her mouth. This feeling was atrocious!

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hungary pushed herself away from the door, pulling it open and stumbling out of the room. She made her way down the hall, half leaning against the wall for support. She probably should have stayed in bed, but if she was left alone with her thoughts, she may go insane.

* * *

Having exhausted himself with all that crying, Italy had fallen asleep in Germany's arms, his head resting on the larger nation's shoulder. He kept whimpering and hiccuping in his sleep, but for the most part, he was still.

Germany, deciding it was best not to carry Italy around like this in case they ran into trouble, carried the sleeping Italian to the nearest bedroom. He pulled back the bed's eiderdown with his foot, laying Italy on the mattress beneath.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off Italy's high-tops before standing up and pulling the eiderdown back over him.

With a sigh, he settled himself cross-legged on the floor by the side of the bed.

What a ridiculous situation this was. Seven nations were dead, or had reached 'Platinum Tier', or some philosophical shit like that. When Prussia had tried to smash a window his arm had ripped open. And The Game Master. The fucking Game Master. That bastard had a seriously sick sense of humour.

"Germany?"

Italy's voice brought Germany out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?" he asked, turning to face the lethargic nation.

Italy gave a weak nod. "What were you thinking of, Germany?" he asked, rolling onto his side and slipping his thumb into his mouth, something he'd never grown out of.

Germany smiled at the childish action. Italy only ever sucked his thumb in front of people he was totally comfortable with, which was only Germany, Romano and Spain, and even then he only did it when he was tired. Prussia and Japan had both seen him doing it, but he tried not to when they were around. "Nothing important." he replied. He gently stroked a few locks of auburn hair out of Italy's face. "You should go back to sleep."

With another nod, Italy moved over. "Will you lie with me?" he asked, his words obscured by the thumb in his mouth. "Just until I fall asleep."

Germany sighed, tugging off his boots before climbing into the bed beside Italy. "Just try not to dribble on me." he teased.

* * *

It had taken Prussia a long time to calm Canada down, but once he had, they'd returned to wandering the halls. Canada kept a tight hold on Prussia's hand, casting worried glances up at him every so often.

While aware of the looks he was getting, Prussia just kept walking strait forward, never taking his eyes off the path ahead of him.

Every time the Prussian so much as coughed, Canada would squeeze his hand move slightly closer.

"Birdie," Prussia sighed, starting to get a little aggravated. While he was touched that the Canadian worried about him so much, he really wished we wouldn't get himself worked up. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm too awesome to die." He flashed his usual, cocky grin, but it gave his partner no comfort.

Canada's gaze fell to the floor. "I'm sorry." he whispered. "I keep picturing all these awful scenarios and..." he trailed off, his eyes filling with tears again.

With a sigh, Prussia turned, wiping away Canada's tears as they began to fall. "Stop crying all the time, you know I can't handle emotions." He pulled the Canadian in for a hug, raking his fingers through his blond hair.

"I ca-can't help it." Canada rested his head on Prussia's chest. "Please don't die."

"Canada!" Prussia could help raising his voice a little. "Stop talking like that! I'm not going to die. Okay?" He caught hold of the Canadian's chin, making him meet his eyes. "How unawesome would I be if I died and left you?"

Canada wished he could have been comforted that easily.

* * *

Hungary's breathing was uneven and she could barely keep her eyes open. Every muscle in her body was screaming for her to go back to the soft, comfortable bed, but her mind persisted that she keep moving forward.

She stumbled a little, almost tripping over, but soon righted herself and continued to limp painfully down the hall.

Her throat had become dry and her head was starting to pound. Still, she walked forward, albeit a little unstably.

She blundered clumsily through one of the bedrooms and into the adjoining bathroom, leaning against the sink. She could just about hold herself up.

This wasn't a good feeling. This wasn't a good feeling at all.

She heaved, ready to throw the contents of her stomach up into the sink, but nothing happened. She gave a few more dry heaves before her stomach settled.

Putting a hand to her cheek she ran the tap, relieved when it actually ran clean water. In this ridiculous clichéd horror-story situation, she'd hardly be surprised if the damn thing ran blood.

She cupped her free hand under the running tap, collecting some water into her palm, lifting it to her lips. She swished the water around in her mouth before spitting it back into the sink.

She lifted her head, looking into the mirror.

She looked dreadful.

All the colour had drained from her face. Her skin looked dry and her hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in years. Her lips were horribly chapped and her eyes were dull with heavy dark circles under her eyes.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. She felt so ill.

_So ill.  
__But no one's here for you.  
__No one cares.  
__You could die.  
__No one in this house would care._

"Prussia would care." she argued back at the voice in her head. "And Italy. Italy would care."

_Then where are they?  
__Prussia would rather be with Canada than you.  
__After everything you've been through together he chose Canada over you.  
__And Italy.  
__Don't be so stupid.  
__You were going to offer to explore the house with him, weren't you?  
__And what did he do?  
__He ran strait to Germany.  
__None of them care about you._

Hungary didn't even know she'd started crying. "Shut up!" she spat. "Just shut up!" She leaned over the sink, glaring dangerously at her reflection.

She saw the whites of her eyes start to darken, her pupils disappearing as they took on the pretty green of her irises.

She stepped back, wide-eyed. "What on earth?" She shook her head, rubbing her eyes and trying to convince herself that she was just overtired and imagining things.

Deciding against staying to see if her eyes were still changing, Hungary spun on her heel, heading out of the bathroom. She sat on the bed, still shaking. What to do? The last thing she wanted was to sit here with the voices in her head driving her crazy, but she was too weak to go far.

"Hungary?"

She looked up, giving a weak smile to who she saw in the doorway. "Prussia." Her voice came out in an airy tangle, quieter than a whisper.

Prussia stepped into the room, Canada following after him. "Are you okay? What happened?" asked the Prussian, sitting beside his childhood friend.

Hungary's smile fell as soon as she saw the Canadian.

_It's all his fault.  
__You and Prussia would still be best friends if he'd just stayed in the corner, unnoticed, where he belongs!_

Shaking the voice out of her head, Hungary took a deep breath. "France and I got separated and he... he..." she trailed off, tears springing to her eyes at the thought. If she'd stuck with him, he might still be alive.

Canada looked to the floor. "So, he really is dead." he whispered, biting his lip.

With a sigh, Prussia put an arm around the Canadian, rubbing his back.

_He should be comforting you.  
__You're the one that's ill.  
__Once again you come second._

"Why don't you go get some water to calm yourself down?" asked Prussia.

Canada nodded, wiping the tears off his cheeks as he walked out of the bedroom.

"It's not fair." whispered Hungary. "It's just not fair."

"Hungary, what's wrong?"

Biting her lip, Hungary struggled to her feet. "I'm alone." she muttered. "So very alone. France is dead. Italy would rather be with Germany." She started to shake, fists clenching at her side. "And you... you have _Canada_!" she spat the name, vehemently.

Prussia sighed. "Hungary, just because I have Canada doesn't mean I care about you any less." he said laying a hand on the Hungarian's back. "We're brothers, remember?" he laughed.

Hungary felt her chest clench. "Brothers." she whispered practically inaudibly. "What the fuck happened to 'bros before hos'?" She bit the inside of her mouth, fighting back more tears. "Prussia," she spoke up a little so Prussia could hear her. "If you'd never met Canada, do you think we'd still be as close as we used to be?"

"We're still close."

"No." A sad smile crept onto Hungary's face. "Not like we used to be. Don't you remember? We'd tell each other everything. Now I hardly see you."

Another sigh fell from Prussia's lips. "Things were different back then. I—"

"Prussia!"

Canada's voice sounded through the halls.

Prussia was on his feet in an instant. "Birdie?" He dashed out the door leaving Hungary sat on the bed, fists clenched in her lap and head reeling.

_One call from the Canadian and he runs off.  
__Canada says jump, Prussia asks how fucking high.  
__It's all Canada's fault!  
__You should get rid of him!_

Hungary pulled herself up, moving forward on weak legs.

_Come on move faster!  
__You have to get rid of the Canadian!_

Despite the encouraging words that echoed through her head, her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor.

"I can't." she muttered. "I can't even walk."

_No!  
__You can do it!  
__Get up!  
__Get up!  
__I believe in you!_

Taking a deep breath Hungary shakily pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She was about to try to get onto her feet when something shining under the chest of draws caught her eye.

Hesitantly, she reached her hand out, grabbing a hold of the object and pulling it out from it's hiding place.

_A hatchet.  
__Perfect._

Hungary gently run her finger across the blade, creating a small slice in her skin. "It's sharp." she observed. She licked away the droplet of blood pooling on the tip of her finger before pushing herself onto her feet.

She made her way out of the room and down the hall, her legs no longer feeling as weak as they did.

* * *

"Birdie?" Prussia found Canada standing in the doorway of a room they'd yet to explore. He had a hand covering his face and couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from whatever was inside that room.

He was jerked out of his trance-like state when Prussia grabbed hold of him. "Birdie, what's wrong."

Canada shook his head pointing into the room.

Prussia turned to peek into the room his hand automatically coming up to cover his mouth.

On the floor, just inside of the room, was England. Badly beaten and barely recognisable. The room was totally destroyed, broken furniture everywhere and blood stains on the wall. And in the centre of it all lay Spain, clutching Romano close to him.

Prussia turned away, pulling Canada with him. He cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. After taking a moment to calm down, he released a shuddering breath. "Come on," he whispered, kissing the top of Canada's head. "Let's go back to Hungary."

As he turned to take them back to the bedroom that they came from, he saw Hungary slowly making her way toward them. "We were just coming back." he informed her.

Hungary ignored him, walking strait forwards.

"Hungary, didn't you hear? We're go—" That's when he noticed. Not only the hatchet dangling at her said but her eyes. Her completely back eyes, narrowed and focused on Canada. "H-Hungary..."

"Prussia, what's—"

"Get out of here." Prussia didn't even look at the Canadian.

Canada gave a puzzled look, still shaking.

"_Now_, Canada!"

Hungary's melodic laugh didn't seem as sweet as usual. "Prussia. Don't make him do things he doesn't want to do." she said in a sing-song voice.

Prussia turned, putting his hands on Canada's shoulders. "Birdie, _please_!" he pleaded. "Remember The Game Master talking about The Corrupt? I'm guessing that The Corruption makes you do things you wouldn't normally do. Even kill people."

_**Very clever, Prussia!**_

Canada flinched at the sound of The Game Master's voice.

"I think it's safe to assume that The Corruption has Hungary. So please, just run!"

"But—"

Prussia spun the Canadian round by his shoulders, shoving him away. "_GO_!"

Hesitating for only a moment, Canada nodded, taking off down the hall.

Prussia turned back to face Hungary, who had almost reached him. She was still a little wobbly on her feet, but much faster than she was.

The Hungarian clenched her teeth, quickening her pace.

When she reached Prussia, he grabbed her by her upper arms. "Hungary what are you doing?" he growled.

Hungary struggled in his hold. "Let go of me! Let go, Prussia!"

"No!"

"Let me kill him!" she hissed. "If I get rid of him, we can be brothers again!"

Prussia pushed Hungary backwards, sending her onto her back. "I'm not going to let you kill him!"

Tears flooded Hungary's eyes. "You don't want me to kill him?" she asked, pushing herself into a seated position.

_He's getting in the way!  
__You know what to do._

"Well, obviously that's going to be a problem." She slowly managed to get back onto her feet. "Because no matter what you say, I really do want the Canadian to die." She took a step forward, brining the hatchet up. "Even if it means I have to kill you first."

She charged forwards, bringing the hatchet down in an attack that Prussia easily dodged.

Skidding to a halt and turning back around, a grin stretched across Hungary's face. "Doesn't this bring back memories?" she sang.

Prussia glared. "I'm fighting you unarmed and you're trying to kill my boyfriend. Fucking nostalgia." he replied, sarcastically.

Hungary swung the hatchet, and knowing he'd have no time to dodge, Prussia blocked it, getting his arm ripped open again, both old and new wounds beginning to ooze blood. He swore loudly, gripping his injured arm.

While Prussia was distracted, Hungary swung again, taking out his leg.

Prussia dropped to the floor, hissing in pain.

With a chiming giggle, Hungary tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I bet Canada is real pretty when he's crying." she taunted.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" spat Prussia, pushing himself up on his good arm.

Hungary gave a bored look, delivering a hard kick to Prussia's ribs, pushing him over onto his back. "As if I'd listen to that." She raised the hatchet one more time, before bringing it down heavily onto Prussia's chest, tearing it wide open.

Prussia jerked forward, coughing up a thick spray of blood.

With a sneer, Hungary yanked the hatchet out of Prussia's chest, turning and walking away, leaving Prussia to die.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, Prussia let a small smile grace his face as he stared down at his make-shift bandages, made from Canada's shirt. "I guess I wasn't awesome enough after all." he whispered.

_**Prussia has reached platinum tier.**_

* * *

**End Note:** Sorry about the thumb-sucking thing. ATH readers will know it's a head canon of mine. Prussia's death scene was the hardest thing I've ever had to write.  
Right, some of you may want to know where France's body was when Canada found the room France, England, Romano and Spain died in. I hope I'm not spoiling anything when I say; You'll find out next chapter.  
Also, my boyfriend has done some fanart of this story. You can find them on Deviantart under the name NarakuNoDragon.  
One more thing (this is a long end note); When the font is centred and italic, you guys get that that's The Corruption talking to them, right?Translations: There are none~

_**Sneak peaks**_

"_I'm not tired anymore, Germany."_

"_Let the punishment fit the crime."_

"_I have served my purpose."_

"_You don't think I'm going to hurt you, do you?"_

"_Oh, hello."_


	7. Chapter 6

Germany bit down on his lower lip, his breath caught in his throat. He was glad Italy was still fast asleep, deaf to he Game Master's announcement.

How could Prussia have died? It seemed unreal.

This must be what Italy was feeling when The Game Master announced Romano's death. Emptiness. Sorrow. Anger. Too many negative emotions to count.

"Germany?"

Germany glanced down to see Italy rubbing his eyes. "Go back to sleep." he whispered.

Italy pushed himself up, shaking his head. "I'm not tired anymore, Germany." he replied, putting his thumb back into his mouth.

With a sigh, the German sat up, glancing over to the side of the room.

"What's wrong?"

"Prussia..." Germany was trying his damn hardest not to start crying. "Prussia is.. he's... reached Platinum Tier..." He couldn't bring himself to say the word dead out loud.

Italy's eyes widened, tears filling them instantly. "No. H-He can't! Germany!" he flung himself onto the German, burying his face in his chest. "P-Prussia can't die! He too a-awesome for that!" he wailed.

Germany wrapped his arms around the sobbing Italian. "I'm really frightened, Italy." he admitted quietly, letting a few tears escape. "Prussia was the strongest man I knew and still he..."

"Germany," Italy cut him off, looking up. "W-We'll be alright." he said. "B-Because we have each other, remember?" He smiled, still managing to make it look convincing, despite the tears streaming down his face.

Wiping his own eyes, Germany nodded. "That's right." he replied. Damnit, how could he lose composure like that while Italy was still awake? One of them had to be strong in this situation, and it was clear that Italy couldn't do that.

* * *

Canada kept running through the empty halls, tears obscuring his vision. He could barely breathe. He ducked into the closest bedroom, closing the door and diving under the covers.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No!

Prussia can't be dead. He can't!

No, The Game Master was just confused. Prussia had beaten Hungary and was looking for him. All the Canadian had to do was wait for him.

* * *

Slowly, America's eyes opened. Everything was blurry and his head was pounding. He tried to pull himself into a seated position, but found his hands immobile. "The hell?" he croaked, tugging on his restraints.

"Oh, you're awake."

The voice drew his attention to the armchair in the corner, where Japan sat, watching over him. "I was wondering how long it was going to take." He got to his feet.

America continued to struggle against the ropes keeping him in place. "Japan, dude, untie me!" he said.

Japan gave a small smile. "I think we both know that isn't going to happen."

All the colour left America's face as he started to panic. "Bro, stop playing around. I'm losing feeling in my hands."

Japan didn't say a word. He turned his back on the distraught American, retrieving his katana from the side of the chair and slowly sliding the sheath from it. He tilted the katana, catching America's reflection in the surface of the blade. He let out a sigh as he turned back around. "You don't even know the trouble you've put me through, do you?" he asked, dropping his sheath and walking back towards the bed. "Most of my financial issues are your fault."

"I-I'm so—"

"Sorry is not good enough."

Tears sprang to America's eyes. What was Japan going to do? "Can you at least let one of my arms free?" he asked, quietly.

Japan raised an eyebrow. "_Just _one of your arms?"

"Yeah, just one."

With a quiet hum, another small smile made it's way onto Japan's face. "Okay then." He raised his katana, quickly bringing it down and slicing off America's right hand with ease.

America screamed in pure, brutal agony, bringing his bloodied stump to his chest. "_What the __**FUCK**__, Japan?!_" he screamed.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Japan's smile grew. "Did you want your hand, too?" He wiped America's blood from his katana, using the sheet that America was lying on. "_Bakayarou_. You really should have been more specific."

America continued to spew out curse words in every language he knew, hot tears flowing down his cheeks. He tucked his arm into his shirt, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Without his other hand, there was nothing he could do.

Japan stepped up onto the bed, standing over the panicked American. "Do you remember what you use to call my 'cultural enlightenment'?" he asked. He placed the tip of his katana against America's lips, slowly easing it into his mouth, settling it on his tongue. "When I think about it, that was really just you shoving your culture down my throat." he muttered, darkly.

America's eye widened as he realised what Japan was about to do.

"Let the punishment fit the crime." With that, Japan thrust his katana down America's throat, keeping a dark glare fixed in place as he watched the American choke.

The more America struggled, the more the blade tore his gullet, but he couldn't help it. He gagged and spluttered, spraying blood all over his face.

Japan laid a foot on America's chest before yanking his katana back, slicing up more of his throat. He jumped down off the bed and left the room without a word, leaving America to die.

America couldn't take much more. The pain was unbearable, and all he wanted was to let his eyes slip closed, but he didn't want to die. He coughed up more and more blood until, finally, he lost the battle and fell limp against the bed.

_**America has reached Platinum Tier.**_

* * *

Canada squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

No.

Not America too.

Everyone he loved was dying. First France, then England, now America, too.

"But not Prussia." he reminded himself. "Never Prussia."

No, Prussia was still out, looking for him. And any moment now he would push open that door and say; _"Hey, Birdie. There you are!"_

Then Canada would run up to him in tears, crying about how he thought he was going to die and how worried he was. Prussia would just laugh obnoxiously loud and say that he worried too much. _"The Great Prussia is too awesome to die, after all."_

Canada peeked out from under the blanket, watching the door.

Any moment now...

* * *

Japan kept moving forward, feeling weak. He had one hand on the wall, holding him up as he struggled through the hall.

Still, he was satisfied. China and America were gone, he needn't worry about them any longer.

Giving a soft groan, he fell against a door, pushing it open and tumbling inside with a startled cry.

"Japan!"

In an instant, Italy was at his side, a concerned look on his face. "Japan, are you okay?"

Japan gave a weak smile. "No, Italy. I am not." he replied. His breath became ragged and he felt his heart rate steadily decreasing.

Italy gasped, looking into Japan's eyes.

Japan's _totally black eyes._

"What happened?"

Japan craned his neck around to look at Germany, who was walking towards him and Italy. "Nothing important."

_Germany.  
__He has also caused a lot of trouble for you, hasn't he?_

Japan shook his head. No, he couldn't fight Germany, especially not in this state.

"Y-You're not going to... to die, are you?" asked Italy, his eyes watering.

Japan gave a slight nod. "I have served my purpose." he whispered. He took one last shuddering breath before his eyes closed.

_**Japan has lost The Game.**_

"J-Japan!"

"Italy!" Germany grabbed Italy by the upper arm, pulling him into his chest.

Italy didn't resist, he just fell limp in Germany's embrace, sobbing loudly. "I-It's not _fair_!" he cried. "All of my friends... it's not fair!"

Germany sighed, closing his eyes and burrowing his nose into Italy's hair. He was right. It wasn't fair. That's when Germany started to regret pulling Italy so close. With their bodies pressed together, Germany could no longer pretend that he wasn't shaking.

* * *

"Oh, Canada~!" Hungary chimed, practically dancing through the halls. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" She kept opening doors and peeking in, looking for any sign of the Canadian.

Where could he be?

"You don't think I'm going to hurt you, do you?" she called, opening a door. She frowned when Canada was nowhere in sight. "No, no, no, dear. I don't want to hurt you!" She moved along to the next door, pushing it open. "I just want to kill you, that's all."

Meanwhile, three doors down, Canada was shaking, clutching the covers.

What was he going to do? If he ran, Hungary would catch him. If he stayed, she'd find him.

He flinched as he heard the door two rooms away bang against the wall. Oh no, she was so close.

Taking a deep breath, he moved out of the bed and onto the floor, careful not to make any noise. He slid under the bed, hoping the space between the mattress and the floor was narrow enough to keep him hidden.

_BANG!_

The door to the next room flew open, making Canada flinch yet again. Here it comes...

His door was soon kicked open, revealing Hungary.

Canada could only see up to her waist. He did not like what he saw.

Her skirt was ripped and splattered with blood. Prussia's blood. Her hatchet was dangling down between her fingers, more blood dripping from it's blade.

Taking a deep breath, Canada closed his eyes. If he were to die here, he wanted to remember the Hungary he knew, not the blood-craving maniac who was about to rip him apart.

Immaculate hair with a pretty flower fixed in place on the right side. Beautiful, flowing dresses which suited her perfectly, despite her tomboyish nature. The way she spoke in a sweet, gentle tone, calling everyone 'dear' or 'sweetie' or 'darling'.

The _real _Hungary.

He was snapped out of his daydream when he heard the next door opening. It worked. Hungary didn't see him. Better yet, she'd left the door open.

All he had to do now was wait until she was far enough away, then he could run in the opposite direction without risking her hearing the door opening.

He listened carefully as the door two rooms away opened.

Three, four, five. Still not enough.

Six, seven, eight. Almost.

He slipped out from under the bed, making his way over to the door. He stayed pressed against the door, listening to the sound of banging doors as it drifted into the distance.

Now was his chance.

He dashed through the door, tearing down the hall in the direction Hungary had come. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes.

He ran and ran and got so far until he tripped, sending his glasses skidding across the floor. He pushed himself up onto his knees, wiping away his tears. He was about to search for his glasses when something caught his eye.

He didn't need to have his glasses on to recognise just what was lying in front of him.

"Prussia..." He crawled forward just a little, resting his head on his boyfriend's chest. "I'm sorry." he whispered, even more tears dripping down his face. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

After managing to calm Italy down, Germany had guided him out of the room. They were walking down the hallway, Italy still giving a few quiet sobs now and again, looking for Hungary and Canada.

That's when it hit Germany that there really were just the four of them left. Fourteen nations had been dwindled down to four so quickly.

Germany paused mid-step when he felt Italy tug on his sleeve. "Germany, did... did you see Japan's eyes?" he whispered, still looking at the floor.

"Yes." Germany frowned. "I did."

"What was wrong with them?"

"I don't know, Italy."

"He said that he had served his purpose... What do you think he meant by that?"

Germany sighed. "I don't know, Italy." he repeated.

They fell into silence once again before Italy sighed. "I'm tired again." he whispered.

Germany frowned. Normally, he wouldn't think about letting Italy rest again, but in all honesty, he was getting tired again, too. "Let's find another bedroom."

Italy nodded, putting his hand on the nearest doorknob and opening the door.

Inside was not another bedroom.

The room was reminiscent of a prison cell with it's grey, stone walls and chilly atmosphere, and hanging from the walls in chains were—

Germany pulled Italy back into his chest before he could see, but it was too late.

Belarus.

France.

Japan.

The bodies of The Corrupt was what hung on the walls.

Italy shook, unable to even cry.

"Oh, hello."

* * *

**End Note:** Before anyone says that Japan is OOC here, I'd like to remind you that he is_ corrupt_.  
I'm sorry this took forever, but as some of you may know, I accidentally overwrote this chapter and had to rewrite it all. I was so annoyed and upset that I was thinking of discontinuing the series, but before I could delete the chapter planner (yes, I wrote a planner to help me along. Why? Because I have the worst memory and would have forgotten all the awesome scenes I'd thought up) I received a PM from Blonde Sunflower Lover and it snapped me out of my self-loathing. So I suggest you all thank her/him for cheering me up and getting me to rewrite this chapter. Unfortunately, this is a little shorter than the original. I'd say by about 200 words, but I think it's decent enough.  
Also, I don't know if you guys have seen it, but there's a deleted scene from last chapter on my profile, so if you want to read it, please do so, especially the GerIta fans.  
Translations:  
Bakayarou – Stupid bastard (Japanese)

_**Sneak peaks**_

"_I've never hit a woman before, but—"_

"_You should have run away with me."_

"_He died protecting me. Don't you get it?"_

"_If I hadn't have killed him, he wouldn't have let me kill you."_

"_Once more for luck, dear."_


	8. Chapter 7

Italy didn't dare move, keeping his face hidden in Germany's chest. He could feel something—he didn't want to imagine what—dripping down onto him from the ceiling. He tried desperately to get the image of his fellow nation's bodies chained to the wall out of his head, but he just couldn't.

And on top of it all, there was that voice. That woman's voice.

"It seems you've found my little hideaway."

Germany glanced up to the ceiling, where the voice was coming from, his eyes widening.

There was a woman who appeared to be lying on the ceiling. Her skin looked almost grey, but maybe it was the light, and she had long, white hair that splayed out around her. Like the bodies on the wall, she also had chains around her wrists as well as her waist, but they dangled down in front of her, not really restricting her at all.

She gave a flirtatious wink before somersaulting down from the ceiling, landing about a foot away from Germany and Italy, her black dress pooling behind her.

"And just who might you be?" Germany asked, glaring darkly.

The woman just smiled. "My, my. You can't tell who I am?" she licked her upper lip, turning away. "Then again, I don't really expect you to. My voice is awfully scrambled when I talk to the house."

Germany took a step back, eyes widening. "The Game Master."

With a low, sultry giggle, the woman turned, flicking her glossy hair. "That's me!" she chimed. She leant forward, running a finger up Italy's spine, making him shiver. "And you, Italy Vene— Actually... I think I can just call you Italy now." she smirked, moving closer and pressing up against his back. "You _are _the only Italy now that the other one's kinda... _dead_, after all."

Italy shook even more, clutching Germany's shirt tightly.

"You've really surprised me, making it this far." The Game Master stated, winding her arms around the Italian's waist. "I thought you'd be the first to go." she hummed lowly. "You'll probably die soon."

Germany pushed Italy out of the way, grabbing The Game Master by her dress. "I've never hit a woman before, but—"

"But _what_?" The Game Master gave a defiant smirk. "You think you can cause me any harm? Try it."

Pulling a fist back, Germany swung for The Game Master, who jumped back up onto the ceiling. "Missed me~" she taunted.

"Why don't you fight me without flying away like a coward?"

The Game Master stuck out her bottom lip. "But then I'd get hit. Why would I want that?" She poked her tongue out, a cheerful smile fixing itself onto her face. "How about you leave me alone or you'll have to fight your friends?"

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Fight my friends? What are you—"

"Germany!"

The German faced Italy, who was pointing at the far wall. He turned in time to see the bodies of The Corrupt lifting their heads.

"You remember them as friends. You know what they remember of you?" The Game Master spun down, hanging in Germany's line of sight like a spider on a thread of webbing. "Everything bad that you've ever done to them." she whispered. "You have to the count of three to get out of my room."

Germany turned back towards Italy, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Italy backed up against the wall, crying and coughing, shaking his head. He lurched forward, dry heaving and choking on his own breath.

"Italy." Germany lay a hand on the Italian's back. "Are you okay?" he asked, moving his hand in gentle circles.

With even more tears pouring down his face, Italy shook his head again. He lurched even further, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He couldn't breathe without broken sobs tumbling from his lips.

Germany lifted the Italian onto his hip, cradling him close to his chest. He'd known the smaller nation for a very long time. He'd seen him at his best and he thought that he'd seen him at his worst, but he had never seen him become such a mess before. So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He sang their song.

"I-I'll make a soldier's decision to fly away. Load my gun, paint my face, call me misery. I could see the sky light up and the ground explode."

Italy hid his face in the crook of Germany's neck, sobbing and hiccuping so much that it was beginning to hurt his chest.

"Got my sights locked in, I can see you breathe. Then I watched you fall and somebody scream. It's the saddest thing when angels fly away."

"G-Germany," Italy croaked, his throat sore. "She said I was going to die soon..."

"_She lied_!" snapped Germany. "She lied to frighten you. You're _not _going to die!"

Italy fell silent after that, sniffling quietly every now and then as he was carried down the hall.

* * *

Hungary sighed, collapsing on a bed in one of the rooms. Her hatchet dropped to the floor and she brought her hands up to rub at her face. "I wish that brat wasn't so good at hiding." she grumbled.

She started to hum as she began idly yanking her fingers through matted brunette locks.

Canada. The invisible nation. And yet he'd stolen the heart of her best friend. Her brother.

Prussia always did have strange taste. And apparently, so did Canada.

How did the Canadian put up with Prussia's arrogance and obnoxiousness?

Not that it mattered now. Prussia was dead and Canada would soon be following him.

With a low chuckle, Hungary pulled herself back up, snatching the hatchet off the floor and leaving the room.

* * *

Meanwhile, Canada was still lying on the floor next to Prussia.

"You idiot." he whispered, lacing his fingers between the Prussian's. "You should have run away with me." His eyes began to fill up with tears all over again. "We could have easily outrun her."

He shook the tears from his eyes, curling up against the Prussian's side. "You idiot."

"Canada?"

The Canadian sat bolt upright, ready to fight if need be.

It was just Germany, carrying an unconscious Italy.

"Is he...?"

"Sleeping." Germany clarified. "He's just sleeping." He went to take a step forward.

"D-Don't come over here." Canada warned. "Please, don't. It's..."

"My brother." Germany stated. "I know."

Once again, Canada's eyes filled. "I'm sorry. He told me to run and—"

"I don't blame you, Canada."

"B-But..." Canada shook his head. "He died protecting me. Don't you get it?"

Germany sighed. "I get it." He walked forward, stopping an inch away from the Canadian. "I get that you feel responsible. You probably hate yourself. But don't think that I hate you too, Canada." he said.

"Germany..."

Balancing Italy on one arm, Germany held his free hand out to the nation on front of him. "Come with us. It's dangerous to be alone here."

With a small smile, Canada refused. "Thank you, but I can't." he said. "Hungary is Corrupt. She's looking for me. I think it's safe to assume that she'll try to kill you both too if you're with me."

"Canada, I think the two of us could—"

"_Please, _Germany. It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me, but I can't... I can't have another death on my conscious."

Germany sighed. "Well, okay." he muttered. "But be careful. Prussia would never forgive me if something happened to you."

"The same goes for you." Canada watched as Germany walked away.

When he was out of sight, Canada lay back down, resting his head on Prussia's chest.

* * *

Platinum Tier.

What did that even mean?

Italy was sure it was just a euphemism for death, but The Game Master had explained it differently.

What had she said?

That Platinum Tier was like Heaven?

But she also said that they would begin anew. So... reincarnation?

It was a strange concept, like a life-after-death theory. All Italy knew was, he really did not want to find out.

* * *

The passing hour found Canada still curled up beside Prussia. Still sobbing. Still apologising.

"You should have just let her kill me." he whispered, pressing a kiss to the Prussian's now cold cheek.

"Aww, how sweet."

Canada jumped to his feet, facing the new arrival. "H-Hungary..."

"You know," Hungary lifted her hatchet, once again running her finger across the blade. "If you had just stayed put and died like a good little bitch, he would still be alive." she stated, looking down at Prussia.

"_Tais-toi_!" yelled Canada, clenching his fists. "You didn't have to kill him!"

Hungary put a hand to her lips, shielding her grin. "Oh, but I did." she purred. "If I hadn't have killed him, he wouldn't have let me kill you." She grinned, stepping forward. "I _really _do want you dead, Canada." she growled, lowly.

Canada was shaking, anger, sadness and fear taking their toll on him. "Don't you see how you've undermined your own argument there?" he asked.

Hungary didn't respond.

"You wanted me out of the way so you and Prussia would be as close as you used to, am I right?" He paused for Hungary to answer, but she remained silent, staring at Canada with an unreadable expression. "How do you expect to to be close to him now that he's dead?" he asked, his voice steadily raising in volume. "Now that you _killed him_?!"

Hungary drew back her hatchet, smacking Canada across the face with the blunt end, sending him to the ground with a pained yelp, his glasses smashing and skidding across the floor.

The Canadian weakly pushed himself up on his arms, spitting out a tooth, along with a mouthful of blood.

With a snarl, Hungary grabbed a fist full of Canada's hair, pulling him to his knees. "Is it really wise to antagonize the lady with the hatchet, _Birdie_?" She punctuated the end of her sentence with a knee to the Canadian's stomach.

Canada dropped back onto the floor, face first, coughing and spluttering. "F-Fuck you!" he wheezed, glaring hard at the woman above him.

Hungary paused, eyes wide. "Canadian's can swear?" she asked. She sighed. "I thought fighting you would be more interesting. You're hardly putting up a fight." she complained. "Oh, well." She raised her hatchet, bringing it down with as much force as she could and burying it in the Canadian's back.

Canada gave an airy scream, pain radiating throughout his whole body. Hungary's hatchet had snapped his spine, rendering him immobile. All he could do was lie on the floor, screaming in brutal agony.

Giving a high-pitched giggle, Hungary put her foot down heavily on Canada's back, earning a louder cry from the fallen nation, and yanked her hatchet back.

Slowly, a numbness began to take over Canada's body and his eyes started to feel heavy.

Hungary smirked. "Giving up already?" she cackled. She raised her hatchet, her tongue flicking over her upper lip. "Once more for luck, dear." she whispered, swinging down and sinking her blade into Canada's skull.

_**Canada has reached Platinum Tier.**_

* * *

**End Note:** A wild Kassy appeared! Kassy used Update! It's super effective! (_I hope_)  
Why did I put Italy's musings on Platinum Tier in? Because I wanted something in-between Canada's talk with Germany and his death. Now that Canada is gone and Hungary is corrupt, there are only two who could win The Game. I wonder if any of you can guess who it is. You're all assuming that it's Germany, but by pointing this out, I'm making you think that it's Italy. Criss-cross! Or am I double-bluffing~?  
Translations:  
Tais-toi! - Shut up! (French)

_**Sneak peaks**_

"_It would be easier to die."_

"_I still have my Italy."_

"_I'll come back for you soon, I promise."_

"_I'm on my way, Italy."_

"_Hi, Germany~!"_


End file.
